Sleeping Beau
by magique
Summary: Oneshot. A gay, very suggestive version of Sleeping Beauty. No character left untainted.


**Title**: Sleeping Beau  
by _magique_**  
Fandom**: Fairytales: Sleeping Beauty  
**Pairing(s)**: Prince/Prince, Prince/everyone, Prince/Manservant, Manservant/Smoky-Guy.  
**Genre/Rating**: Humour, Romance/M  
**Word Count**: 2979  
**Summary**: A gay, very suggestive version of Sleeping Beauty. No character left untainted.  
**Warnings**: Homosexual themes, sexual references.  
**Notes**: And, thus, we begin. _Sleeping Beauty_ turned _Sleeping Beau_ and plenty of sexual suggestion to boot. If you can't handle slash or the M rating, by God, go no further than this!

* * *

On his seventeenth birthday, Prince Darcy – the second son, and inheritor of nothing, of King Henry and his fair queen, Calista – declared every man of the area to be easy and incredibly dull.

His manservant, Jeff, promptly hit him over the head with the glass vase he had been standing next to at the time.

When Darcy regained consciousness that evening, he attempted to explain the meaning of what he had earlier, so thoughtlessly, pronounced. He was pleased to note all harmful objects had been removed from his room.

"I need someone _interesting_ and _different_. I need a little variation and challenge."

He didn't also note the homicidal glint in Jeff's eyes as he responded to the questioning, offended expression upon his servant's face; "You must understand, I am thoroughly sick of the same old people time and time again."

"You weren't complaining last night." was his only reply as Jeff left the room, struggling with self control which, apparently, only he possessed. Lucky that he did though, as it had saved his life on multiple occasions when the stupid, spoiled, and vain prince spoke his mind.

* * *

The Queen felt often guilty of her husband's obvious preference for their heir, so she took it upon herself to find the 'challenge' _her_ favourite son desired.

She sent out soldiers to find news of any such man who would please him. All, but one, returned empty handed.

"Where is the last of your men?" the Queen inquired when she saw one was missing.

"He insisted upon listening to some boring old crone we met upon the road. She raved on about one hundred year long curses and frozen princes. We got so bored, we continued on … oh dear." The leader had realised their error only after his speech had ended. "We should have brought her to you, shouldn't we have, your majesty?"

She fixed him with a horrible glare, "Yes, you fool. Now, go! Retrieve her before the story is lost to me!"

The soldiers departed once more; returning soon with the final man, and the crone.

* * *

"You say you have a tale, Mrs. … you…"

"Oh, I am Mrs. Be-"

"I care little for your name, crone. The story is what I wish to hear."

"Of course, your majesty. Indeed, I have a tale – true, it be – of a whole castle and its surrounding city, frozen for one hundred years! Tragic, it be. Oh! Very tragic!" the old woman said dramatically.

"Why are you talking like that?" The Queen gave her an odd look, then waved her hand at a nearby servant. "Collect Darcy, _now_."

She watched him reluctantly turn and even more reluctantly head to the prince's rooms. "Hurry, man!

"I really need to tell Darcy to keep away from the servants; he makes them quite nervous…" She murmured thoughtfully.

* * *

Darcy had straddled Jeff and begun to unbutton his shirt, when the servant burst in.

He let out a strangled cry and fell off the bed.

Over Jeff's laughter, he said imperiously from the floor, "Do you _mind_? God! We were _busy_."

"He could _see_ that," Jeff muttered, sitting up casually.

The servant blushed brightly and looked at his feet, remembering a similar situation between himself and the prince the other week.

"_What do you want?_" Darcy barked.

He started, "Um … the queen requires you in the throne room, sire."

"Oh. That woman has a sixth sense." He stood, smirk returning. "We'll finish this later, Jeff."

Yeah … right … okay." Jeff picked up a book, turning away, "Can't wait."

* * *

Entering the throne room, Darcy was unprepared for the surprise awaiting him.

"Oh, ew!" He stated, watching the crone with suspicion; nothing that smells that bad could be safe.

"Darcy, really! I know she's disgusting, but at least _try_ to hide your opinions. Look how well I'm managing." his mother said.

"Congratulations, that's quite a talent you possess. A talent not passed on, so excuse my 'rudeness'" he returned, slumping into his side-throne.

"Only from practise, my dear. Now, this … thing … has something you may well like."

"Really?" Darcy drawled sarcastically. "Has she a sex slave hidden within all that fabric?"

"No. _You idiot_." She added in undertones. "But close. She's going to tell us about a prince you will like very much."

"Indeed I am, sire."

"Oh my god. It's _talking_ at me," he said faintly, "kill it."

"Darcy!"

"_Once there was a King and Queen who desired nothing more than a darling child to fulfil their lives. But years passed them by and still the queen did not give birth-"_

"What a pathetic excuse for a queen. _I_ was pregnant with Cornelisz almost immediately."

"Not everyone has your luck, your majesty."

The queen preened.

"But, if you don't mind, I'm telling a story."

"Oh, if you _insist_."

"_One day, the Queen was walking through the gardens when-"_

"Just get to the good bit already," a voice called.

"Fine," the crone said angrily, "but I'll have you know, you are the worst audience yet!"

"_Finally, a baby was born. The King and Queen were ecstatic, naming him Jonathan._

"_Indeed, so pleased were they, that a grand christening was set upon for the next month._

"_Every lord, lady, friend, and acquaintance of importance was invited. So too, were seven of the eight fairies in the land. The last one had been quite forgotten, for she had not been seen for fifty years together._

"_What a dreadful mistake! She turned up anyway, all smiles and kindness, lulling them into a false state of security. They completely believed her to have forgiven them for the accident, not counting upon her vicious and _un_forgiving nature._

"_Until the fairies' gifts were to be received… _

"_The first stepped forward with an indulgent smile. "Darling Prince Jonathan, I give you a gift most useful, I give you, erm, handsome…ness. Damn, I knew I should have prepared better … I give you sexiness!"_

"_There was a chorus of groans and dark muttering from the other fairies._

"'_Vinia, you cow! You stole _my _gift!' cried out one of the later magical women._

"_The second fairy stepped forward as the other returned to her place, and gave the prince a great talent for wooing lovers._

"_When a lady commented on its inappropriate nature, the fairy glared and began_ _to rant, 'Oh, it is_ absolutely necessary_! And I would just love to see _you_ come up with something useful for a prince! You think us fairies have it easy! You think-'_

"_She was returned to her own place and gagged, so as not to interfere with the other goings-on._

"_The third fairy walked up to the fancy crib; 'Now I know Vinia gave him sexiness, but that is quite different to being plain hot. So that is my gift.'_

"_The fourth had considerably more trouble. After ten minutes of thought and multiple insults about her brain power, she gave Jonathan a perfect, and perfectly straight nose, plus great knees and hair._

"_The fifth and sixth had clearly more time to think than the one before them, and the prince received wonderful taste in music and the ability to consume large amounts of alcohol with little effect. _

"_The seventh fairy began to stand, holding what appeared to be a piece of black fabric, when the final, angry fairy's patience wore entirely thin._

"'I _will go next!' she cried, pushing past the smaller one. 'I am sick of waiting, and of this horrible company!'_

"_Gasps all round. No one had suspected a thing!_

"'_You have piled abuse upon me and I shall take it no longer! As repayment for your awful treatment, the young prince will suffer! You didn't invite_ me! **Me**; _the all-powerful,_ best _fairy in all the land! For such neglect, your 'perfect' son will take but one puff of a cigarette on his sixteenth birthday, and_ **die**_!'_

"_There was a stunned silence while the fairy turned away, changed her mind, and turned back._

"'_And just 'cause I don't like you, he will be gay!' Her evil laughter echoed through the great hall, even minutes after her disappearance."_

"Well," Darcy said, "I didn't see that one coming."

"Hah. Just like how you didn't see that branch coming, riding a few days ago!" snickered Jeff, who had in fact followed Darcy to the throne room to here the news.

Everyone ignored them, as usually occurred, and the story continued.

"'_Oh! Alas! My poor prince! And me, too old to bear another child! What shall we do, my king?" the Queen sighed and complained, as was vital in such situations._

"'_Worry not, Dear Queen,' called the seventh fairy, standing, 'for I have not bestowed my gift._

"'_Though I cannot undo such a spell completely, I can change it enough, so he does not die; that he falls asleep for one hundred years and is woken by true love's first kiss.'_

"'_What use is this? If his true love is to be another man? They cannot rule this kingdom! Two kings; what a preposterous idea.'_

"'_I am afraid I can do very little about that. She is too powerful, and made it too strong. I can only change it enough so there is a small chance of his true love being a princess, small though it may be, it is your only hope.'_

"'_Oh! Alas! It is better, but not by much!' the Queen sighed and sunk gracefully into her throne._

"'_I did get him these really hot tight pants though, if it is any consolation.'_

"_The Queen_ was _slightly consoled, 'That was sweet of you, dear.'_

"_And so Prince Jonathan grew up, lacking some essentials, due to the fairies' collective stupidity. Essentials, such as intelligence, morals, and loyalty._

"_Despite this, he was well-loved, and thought the most handsome young man that ever was-"_

"Never met me obviously then." Darcy interrupted, receiving a frown.

"_Also lacking in the kingdom, were cigarettes, for all were burnt the evening of the christening so the curse would never be complete._

"_But a curse is like a prophecy, and will always, somehow, be fulfilled. _

"_On Prince Jonathan's sixteenth birthday, he had a fight with his mother about a party he wished to attend, and stormed away to cool his rage._

"_He came to a tower he'd never seen previously during his escapades in the castle and started up the stairs._

"_He climbed about ten steps, before getting bored and irritated, so he turned back and continued on down the long hall._

"_Around the corner, an attractive young man was taking a drag of a cigarette. _

"_Jonathan had never seen one and asked the other man what it was._

"'_Are you stupid? It's a fag. Hah. Like you. Ohhh. That was good."_

"_Jonathan grew annoyed, 'Let me try it.'_

"'_Are you kidding? It's my last one! It'll be months before I can smuggle more in."_

"'_How about if I do … _something_ in return,' the prince suggested, moving closer._

"_The man looked interested. He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth, feigning nonchalance, 'I suppose. Here.'_

"_Jonathan reached for it with a smug expression. He inhaled once, choked and dropped to the ground._

"'_Jesus Christ! I've killed the prince! I'm out of here!' the young man sprinted off._

"_The prince was found later that day and placed in a bed at the top of the tower, for authenticity's sake. _

"_The seventh fairy realised how his long sleep could cause all suffering, and cast a spell over the rest of the castle, only to wake when he and his true love woke the King and Queen._

"_And so the castle remains; frozen in time, surrounded by a huge forest of briar roses that only his true love can pass through."_

"Why briar roses?" asked a passing servant, who had stopped to listen.

"What do I look like to you? I didn't do it!" The crone stomped her foot.

Darcy glanced around the room, "I think this must be the most stupid idea I've ever had, but I want to see this for myself."

"Psh. You just want a fu-"

"Jeff, shut up and saddle our horses!"

"No way! I am _not_ going. What does he want? A threesome?"

"You will go, servant," the queen said, "if he wishes it so."

Darcy stuck his tongue out.

"You're _seventeen_ and you just stuck your tongue out! That is so juvenile."

"Get the horses."

* * *

Darcy and Jeff set out that evening for the castle of the 'sleeping beau'.

The journey was long, dull, and injected with complaints.

When the castle finally was reached; the wall of Briar Roses finally seen, Darcy stopped and considered, "It's not too late to go back, is it?"

"I'm not the one who'll look stupid, so I don't care," Jeff replied; noncommittal.

Darcy turned in his saddle, "Yeah, but, like, look at that stuff. It could cut my arms or even scratch out my eyes!"

"And we all know your appearance is your _only_ virtue. But _I'm_ not doing it, so you can think up something else."

While the two young men were conversing, an old man slowly made his way over.

"Thinking of saving the prince, are you, sir?" he asked Jeff.

Jeff scoffed and Darcy choked.

"_Him_? You ask him and not me?"

The man shrugged, "He looked more worthy."

"I smite you!" Darcy exclaimed ridiculously. "Leave my presence or I shall have you killed."

He didn't move.

"_Jeff_."

"Kill your own men, Darce, I'm not doing it," Jeff returned, callously inspecting his nails.

"Have you heard the tale of the sleeping prince?" The old man inquired. "One hundre-"

"Yes, we have. Get lost."

The old man gave them an offended look, "It was that stupid hag, wasn't it? She's always getting in there first! I never get to tell the story anymore with her around."

"That's tough." Jeff sympathised.

"You don't happen to know any gardeners?" Darcy fitted his question casually into the conversation.

"I do. My mate, George … hey! No! If you're the prince's true love, which I certainly hope isn't the case, then you have to get through yourself."

"Yeah, I am doing it myself … I'm just using my brain and getting a professional to do it for me."

"That's _not_ how it works, mate. You do it yourself or not at all."

"Damn."

Darcy dismounted his horse and looked at the threateningly sharp thorns. "Here goes nothing."

He stepped forward, sword aloft.

The branches parted swiftly, leaving a short pathway through the roses.

"Come on, Jeff. Let's roll."

The prince and his companion walked along the path to where it ended and waited expectantly.

"Oh, man. It was only going to help me that far? What tool made this thing?"

Jeff turned to look back, "Well, there's no returning _now_."

"Huh?" Darcy turned too.

The way was blocked. The branches and thorns back in place.

"Who would do that!"

But before he could begin to cut the branches, another short path was cleared.

Darcy felt rather smug, "His parents are going to be disappointed."

"You're telling me. They'll hate you."

"Hey! I meant-"

"It's the truth, and you know it."

As they sauntered down the self-clearing path, the argument continued along similar lines, though rather too dull and repetitive to be worth recounting.

Finally, they reached the end. The way cleared entirely and opened into a large courtyard.

Darcy strutted casually through the mess of fallen bodies.

He stopped, looking down at one in particular.

Jeff wandered past him.

"Hey, Jeff! Jeff! Come look at this!"

Jeff turned.

Darcy was standing over the same body as before, a familiar smirk in place.

"What?"

"You have _got_ to see this guy! Sex-eee!"

The sleeping man was, in fact, the same one who had been smuggling his addiction into the castle, and caused the whole thing.

Jeff walked over. "I think … I might just … _wait _here while you wake up the prince…"

Darcy laughed and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Shut up."

Darcy continued alone.

"I wonder if I just walk whatever way, I'll go the right way." He pondered.

Immediately after _this_ pondering, he pondered whether cross-country journeys and sleeping princes often sent people insane.

He came to a tower.

"Awww. _Stairs_? That is so cliché."

He climbed them at the steady pace of a slow snail.

'_Five stairs for every year._' said a sign above the entrance of the room at the top.

"Who would do that?"

Darcy entered the room.

It was dark and dank. The effects of those hundred years had been harsh on the décor; the wallpaper cracking and curling.

He turned the light on.

The bed was in a central position, with the head against the farthest wall.

Drapes and curtains literally covered it on all sides, hiding the prince from view.

"He had better be worth all this." Darcy said, voice muffled by his hand covering his mouth and nose from the smell.

Darcy reached hesitantly to the curtain and pulled it back.

He was faced with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Pale skin. Dark hair. Perfect physique. Tight pants.

He whistled softly, "I am _impressed_."

He leant forward slightly, planting a soft kiss upon the prince's lips.

Darcy felt a response and moved closer; kissing harder.

"Can't … breathe…" Jonathan pulled back, breath coming in sharp gasps.

"Yeah, I've had plenty of practice with that kind of thing,' Darcy said in a mild conversational manner. "You will too, though, if I have any say in the matter."

He swooped in for a replay, firmer and more insistent this time.

Again, it was Jonathan who ended it.

"Shouldn't I go wake Mum and Dad?"

Darcy straddled Jonathan on the bed, hands exploring his taut stomach and chest under his shirt, "Why now? They can sleep a little longer."

"Ohhh."

_The End_


End file.
